


Waiting in the Wings for You

by skylinesunflowers



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Foster Care, Foster Family, Gen, Modern Setting, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26494465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylinesunflowers/pseuds/skylinesunflowers
Summary: Yeah, it’s another ofthosefics.
Relationships: George Washington/Martha Washington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teenage Alex looks like teenager Lin, just so we’re all clear on that.

Alex really didn’t know how he felt about his social worker, even after being her ‘case’ for well over a year. Her name was Julie, but the other social workers called her Jules, and she talked about her twin sister a lot.

It was two years ago that she worked with three other kids: twins named Emma and Zach, and a dude named Aaron Burr.

Burr was weirdly like him. He was into politics and law, and he was pretty persuasive. They were both reliable with the ladies, if Alex did say so himself.

Then, Burr got picked up by the Jeffersons: Peter and Jane. Alex never got to meet them, either. He just up and left one day.

Just like Alex was doing now.

He’d heard of the Washingtons before. George was a senator in New York, and Martha was a great lawyer. He hadn’t known that about her at first, but the Internet was a blessing.

They were nice people. There were pictures of them all over the Internet, smiling at a State Dinner, in the airport with a dark-skinned boy grinning beside them, and at the entrance of what seemed to be the New York governor’s office.

The best reasoning that Alex could come up with was that it would better their image. Why else would they look for a immigrant orphan in the great state of Pennsylvania, carted from New York to Maine, back to New York, and, after a brief stint in Michigan, to the Keystone State.

Julie had shitty taste in music. Her Volkswagen was old and smelled of cats, which made his stomach turn slightly. She was listening to a woman with a crooning, horrible voice; _Ariana Grande_ , his mind supplied. One of the girls at his last house, the Reynolds’, used to listen to her. Susan loved music.

“Alex,” Julie said, catching his attention from the window, where rain was distorting the image of apple trees lining a road, “we’re here.”

The house was fucking huge. It looked like one of the old colonials down that rich neighborhood in Michigan, like nothing an orphan from St. Croix could ever hope to afford. Julie chuckled, and his mouth snapped shut.

“It’s big,” he offered lamely. “And white.”

“Okay, Mr. Obvious.” Julie fussed with her bun. Her hair frizzed in the rain, at least in New York and Michigan. “I’ll go finalize the paperwork, and then I’ll be on my way. Come on.”

Alex shuffled to the front door with her, and watched as Julie lifted the brass knocker and tapped it twice on the door. She stepped back and it swung open after a moment.

A homely-looking woman greeted them. Alex could barely recognize Martha Washington when she was in an apron and jeans. He’d grown so accustomed to seeing her photographs in a pantsuit that seeing her like this just felt _wrong_.

“Good afternoon,” she said, beckoning them in. “It’s so wonderful to meet you Alex. Come in, please. It’s horribly cold out, isn’t it?”

“Hello, Mrs. Washington,” he said quietly. The cheer in her eyes slid away and Alex winced.

Martha enveloped Julie in a hug. “Are you sure you won’t be staying for dinner?”

“No, Martha, I’m sorry. I promised my sister I’d help her with Halloween costumes for her girls. They want to be the mice from Cinderella this year, and they don’t make them at the Disney store.”

Alex shifted from one foot to the other. Martha beamed at him. “Did you have lunch on the road?”

He looked up at Julie, wondering if she’d answer, but all she did was smile encouragingly. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, looking down at his feet. Maybe he should look up.

Martha waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, said, “Let’s head to the drawing room. I’ll call Gil down and have him take Alex to his room.”

Was Gil the kid from the airport? Alex tugged on the drawstrings of his sweatshirt. The whole house was so clean. He looked out of place in his navy sweatshirt and black pants.

“Finally here,” Martha teased when ‘Gil’ came down the stairs. “I thought I’d have to send George up to get you.”

Alex suppressed a shudder and made a mental note to appear as soon as he’d been called.

“Ah, Maman, you wound me so,” he said, a hand fluttering over his heart. ‘Gil’ had curls held back in a ponytail and wore a shirt with a depiction of a bald guy with an arrow on his head. Alex didn’t watch Avatar, but some of the other kids at St. Cecelia Center for Children did.

“ _Mon ami_ , if you will follow me,” ‘Gil’ said, gesturing to the stairs. What kind of a name was Gil, anyways? Like a fish, or something. He’d never heard of a Frenchman named Gil.

Alex gathered his bag and waved to Julie. She grinned at him and mouthed, ‘Good luck.’ How she could remain so positive, after watching him being kicked from the already oversized immigrant family he’d been with in New Rochelle, to the Reynolds, who she’d been pursuing a lawsuit against, Alex would never know. He’d long since abandoned optimism for realism.

“I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette,” he introduced himself. “You may call me Lafayette, or Gil, if it suits you. I have longed for a brother since mine … how do you say, ah, _passed_.”

Silence fell over the hallway. How was Alex supposed to respond to that? Mention that he had a dead brother, too? _Hey, guess what, we both have dead brothers, twinsies!_

“I’m Alexander,” he offered finally. “Alex. I speak French.”

Gil- Lafayette lit up. “ _Incroyable! Mes amis sont sans espoir. J'apprécierai d'avoir un ami francophone_.” ( **French:** My friends are hopeless. I shall enjoy having a French-speaking friend.)

“Um ... yeah,” Alex said.

Lafayette swung open a door to the left without warning. “ _Et voila!_ ”

Yeah, he was … weirdly cheery. Susan wasn’t like that, and he didn’t remember anyone else to be this happy, either. But, that was okay. He could deal with it, or whatever.

This could be good. Alex would be fine. Everything would be _fine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m writing this in my 2A block, so let me know if you find any grammatical or spelling errors. Excuse my Google Translate French.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freshman year is kicking my ass and it hasn’t even been two weeks yet.

Somehow, Lafayette picked up on his need to be alone and disappeared from the room after a few get-to-know-you questions. It felt like all the times he’d started at a new school, with the, “Alex, what colors do you like?”, “Alex, what animal’s your favorite?”, and his favorite, “Alex, where’s your real mom?”

That was from a particularly insensitive girl about three placements back. Whatever. It was fine.

His room was big, bigger than any other house he’d been in. The walls were cream and void of decorations, and there was a dresser of brown wood across the room from his bed. It was _weird_ how big this house was.

He didn’t have much in his backpack, and even if he did, Alex wasn’t planning on putting it anywhere in this damn room. Not when he knew that they could take it, or - he suppressed a shudder - _destroy_ it.

All Alex kept in there was a pile of clothing, the cell phone his first family, the Livingstons, had gotten for him, and a copy of _The Federalist Papers_. Kitty Livingston had actually given him the money to buy that, too. She’d taken her daughter, Susannah, to the shop to find a book for her A.P. English class.

He shoved the bag under the bed and frowned at the door. Was he meant to go back downstairs and help Mrs. Washington with something? Or should he just wait until called for? What was the better option?

Alex was jolted out of his thoughts when the door swung open, Lafayette standing on the threshold, his arms laden in boxes. _Apples to Apples_ , one read, and he was sure he’d seen it on a board game box at the Center.

“As the grownups are, how do you say, _adulting_ , I wondered if you would be interested in a board game.”

With that, he plopped onto the floor of Alex’s bedroom and took the lid off _Game of Life_. Alex made no move to follow suit. I’m too many homes, this had been the prelude to periods of, well, _suffering_ that Alex didn’t wish to partake in. Still, joining Lafayette had to be the better option than insulting him.

Alex slid onto the floor in front of his bed. The white carpet was surprisingly sturdy. He sat on his knees and watched Lafayette plug pegs into a pink car.

“ _Mon ami_ , which color is your favorite?”

“Blue,” Alex said, surprised by how small his voice came out. “I like orange, but blue’s fine.”

Lafayette made no comment. Instead, he stuck a blue peg into the driver’s seat and placed the car at the start. “Perhaps you wish to spin first?”

Alex shook his head. He was content to watch Lafayette play on his own. Games didn’t entertain him much. Not that he had the time for them, what with all the writing he’d been doing lately. College essays, though he hadn’t been at a school long enough to send them in.

“The college path,” Lafayette proclaimed with gusto. The guy was impossibly cheerful. Alex needed about ten cups of coffee to get where he was now. “And for you?”

“Um, college is fine. Or career. It really doesn’t matter.”

“Will you attend college in the future? Maman has made it a requirement for me, but I wonder about you.”

“I think I will.” Alex cleared his throat. “I’ve been interested in law school.”

“Ah, I will never understand you and Papa. Law bores me to no end. Politics I can stand, but you two. And Maman! They will leave me to perish beside my friends. Oh, my friends!” Lafayette gave a start. “I entirely forgot to mention them. They shall, what is the saying? Give me grief.”

Alex shifted uncomfortably. Most kids in his other homes kept to themselves. Susannah was about three years his senior, and didn’t want him hanging around her. Susan Reynolds was of the quieter sort and didn’t really talk to anyone. Charles and Emily Mulligan, the Irish immigrants two families ago, had seven kids. None of them liked Alex much.

“ … father was honorably discharged,” Lafayette continued, and Alex zoned back in. “John is very close to his father. As is Hercules to his. His father is an accountant, and his mother works at the market. He even has cousins here, in New York. How wonderful!”

“Um, yeah.” Desperate to get off the subject of cousins, Alex changed the subject. “I meant to ask, do the Washingtons hit?”

He didn’t think Martha did. But, Alex had done his research well. George Washington was a well-built guy, who could probably break some bones if he was _really_ mad. And, as a senator, practically no one could touch him.

Alex looked down at his lap, wondering if the question hadn’t been well-received. Things like that never often were. The only one that had answered the question properly was Susan, with a quiet, “Yes,” in the hush of the night.

Lafayette got up and came to sit beside him. Alex tensed automatically, and took several hopefully inconspicuous breaths to regain his composure, when Lafayette took his hands in his own.

“Never,” he said firmly, “will they hurt you. I have been here for many years. My father died when I was _une infante_ , and my mother followed in the years after. Never have George or Martha _ever_ laid a hand upon me.”

Slightly alarmed by this vehement outburst, Alex gave a sharp nod. The look in Lafayette’s eyes evolved into - a sharp flash of hope pricked Alex’s heart - fondness.

“ _Mon ami_ , has someone hurt you?”

He froze. There was no good answer to that question. He didn’t want to risk another outburst by claiming that he deserved it, or by mentioning that it had happened to Susan, too, and that it was his fault.

Before Alex could form an answer, there came a call from downstairs. “Boys, could you come down here?”

Numbly, he got to his feet and followed Lafayette down the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We stan a multilingual, liberal, Hamilfan woman like my Spanish teacher.
> 
> Also, our peeps Charles and Emily Mulligan are Herc’s paternal uncle and aunt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t written HP fanfiction since I was a third-grader and it’s honestly kind of liberating.

Martha Dandridge Washington wasn’t born yesterday. She knew Alexander Hamilton would be a ‘difficult’ one. They needed no convincing.

The poor boy’s father left, and his mother died. Then, just when he’d built himself up, a hurricane washed his prospects away. Some of the homes he’d been in - the Reynolds’ came to mind - were abusive at worst and slightly neglectful at best. That was what came with the whole foster system shebang, in America, anyways.

Gilbert’s process wasn’t like this. His parents had been close acquaintances of the Washingtons, and, after his father had died, his mother had decreed he go to them. She passed away, obviously. A horrible death, and they found themselves saddled with Gil, who’d grown to become a wonderful child.

Both boys came down the stairs, Alex following Gil at what Martha assumed was meant to be a safe distance. She gestured to the table. “Come and sit down, boys. Alex, have you had lunch yet?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded faintly.

All right then. She checked the timer on the oven and slid into the seat opposite to them. “So, Alex, we need to talk about school. How do you feel about starting on Monday?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” Alexander replied, staring resolutely at his hands.

Martha sighed, but stopped halfway when she saw the frightened look on his face. “I’m sorry, Alex, you’ll have to be a little more specific. You’re okay with starting, or do you not want to start?”

“I’m fine with it, Mrs. Washington.”

“Call me Martha, please, dear,” she said gently. “I’ll have a word with George tonight, and we’ll set up a meeting with the head of Gil’s school.”

Gilbert grinned. “ _Maman_ , I think Mr. Franklin will be quite pleased to have a new student, do you not?”

“You mean John and Hercules will be pleased to have a new friend. Yes, I do believe so. Why not invite them over tomorrow, if Alex is all right with it?” She cast a glance over at the boy, still looking down at his lap. If those old clothes were all he owned, she’d send him and George shopping on Sunday.

“Alex,” Martha prodded gently once he made it clear he wouldn’t respond.

Alex gave a great start. “Oh, sor - sorry. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Gil, don’t you have an English paper due?”

It was Gilbert’s turn to start. “ _Tiens!_ I shall go do that now.”

Once he disappeared up the stairs, Martha gave Alex a warm smile. He was a bit hesitant in returning it, but his lips curved up a little anyways.

“Alexander - can I call you Alex, by the way?” She waited for a nod of assent. “All right. Alex, how much clothing did you bring with you?”

“Not much,” Alex said. “I have enough for a couple days. If you have a washing machine … or, if not, I can just pop on down to the laundromat, and that’ll be just -”

“Alex,” Martha cut in gently. “I’ll have George take you shopping tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be able to find something you like at the mall.”

“Oh. You don’t have to do that,” he said quickly. The poor kid went from silent to manic in a matter of seconds.

“I know, Alex. I want to. Anyhow, are you liking it here?” Martha laughed, trying to put him at ease. “I know, you’ve only been here about an hour. But if there’s anything you want to change, or you want me to know about, just tell me.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Washington.” Martha frowned. “You have a nice home.”

“You can go on upstairs if you want,” she said finally, when it was clear his hard exterior would not be pricked today. “I’ll just call you down for dinner. You can let me know if you get hungry before then, though.”

Alex echoed his previous words and took his leave from the table, leaving Martha contemplating just what to do with him. Best to let George know, and just handle it from there. Her husband was a man of intelligence, who would most certainly help her come to a conclusion.

Yeah, alright. She’d let it be, for now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m emotionally invested in Eric Forman.

Alex didn’t end up meeting George Washington that night. Martha ushered him and Lafayette downstairs and explained that he and Senator Henry Laurens of South Carolina were working on a bipartisan bill.

He knew a little bit about the South Carolina senator. He was a widower, and he had four kids. There were lots of widowers here in the capital city. Single dads. His kids were named John, Martha, Henry Jr., and Polly. The latter three all had weird nicknames.

Alex knew a couple kids with weird names. There was Blue from the school in Michigan, and this girl Marianne, who was in a writing competition a while back. Lafayette, he guessed. It didn’t really matter.

Lafayette was nice. He’d given Alex the WiFi password and traded phone numbers. Nobody else really ever did that for him. Not even Susan.

Was he ready to meet George Washington and go to a new school? Probably not. It was in his best interests to back the idea, though.

Alex rolled over in bed and tried to think of names. Blue. Marianne. Elizabeth. Like counting sheep.

Two minutes found him at the majestic desk in the corner, scribbling his thoughts out into his half-full journal.

He spent the night writing down his thoughts on the Emancipation Proclamation, simply whiling the time away. Alex went down around the time the sun came up.

He thought Martha was in the kitchen. The water was running at full speed in the kitchen. Alex poked his head in.

Shit. Nope. Not Mrs. Washington.

George Washington stood in the middle of his kitchen in a UVA t-shirt and sweatpants, washing his dishes in the sink. At least, until he noticed Alex.

His smile was nice. Like, nice. Just nice. Not fatherly or anything.

“Hello,” he said. “You must be Alex. I’m sorry I wasn’t around last night. Martha must’ve told you about my work. I’m afraid it’s horribly boring.”

“It’s not,” Alex said. He felt numb. His lips were moving, but without command. “Not horribly boring. I like what you did in the… ahem.” He trailed off.

George shot him a curious look. “In the what?”

“Ah.” Alex looked down at his feet. “The, um, the healthcare bill. That was incredible work, sir.”

“Call me George.” He smiled at Alex. “Thank you, son.”

Damn it. He was one of _those_ guys? Alex tried not to cringe.

“So, I hear I’ll be taking you shopping this morning? Martha chewed my ear off about that last night.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Alex said, cold washing over him. “I have enough.”

“Well, son, one can never have too much clothing. As my wife so helpfully keeps reminding me.” George shut off the tap. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you, son.”

Alex grit his teeth. Yeah, this was okay. It was all cool.


End file.
